Chapter 165: Ketut and Erika
The twin arcs of fluid splashed across the cool marble of the grand staircase, glittering under the Bali sun that streamed through the vast glass walls. Ketut gasped, one hand flying to her rounded belly, the other gripping the polished railing. Beside her, Erika let out a low, guttural moan, her pale skin flushing as her own waters cascaded down her long legs, pooling around her bare feet on the step below.
"Oh, fuck, here we go," Erika panted, her startling blue eyes wide with a mixture of panic and exhilaration. The dampness soaked through her thin silk robe. "Both of us? Now?"
"Petrova!" Ketut called out, her voice surprisingly steady despite the fierce contraction that immediately followed the gush. Her sculpted body, honed by Sophia’s relentless training, tensed, her perky ass tightening visibly beneath the fabric. "Bruce! It’s time! Right now!"
Bruce was across the expansive living area in seconds, his bare feet slapping the floor. His swirling hazel eyes, flecked with gold and blue today – Ketut registered the concerned determination in their color shift – scanned both women. "Twins and a singleton, all demanding attention at once," he murmured, the ghost of a smile touching his lips beneath the intense focus. "Can you walk?"
Erika nodded, gritting her teeth as another wave hit. "Yeah. Just… get me off these fucking stairs before I slide down them."
Bruce moved between them, wrapping a strong arm around each waist, supporting their weight. They moved slowly, deliberately, towards the converted birthing suite adjacent to the main living space. The scent of frangipani mingled strangely with the sudden, primal smell of amniotic fluid. Nurses appeared instantly, silently efficient, guiding them the last few feet as Petrova, her face a mask of calm readiness, met them at the suite door.
"On the tables, quickly now," Petrova instructed, her Russian accent clipped. "Erika, you first. Twins often come fast. Ketut, deep breaths. You’ve got a little more time, I suspect."
Erika was helped onto the nearest birthing bed, her long legs spread, her pale blond hair plastered to her damp forehead. Bruce stayed beside her, his hand gripping hers. "Easy, elska. Easy," he murmured, using the Icelandic endearment. "Petrova knows what she’s doing."
"My fucking back," Erika groaned, arching off the table. "It feels like I'm being split in half!"
Petrova gloved up swiftly, her movements economical. "Dilation is rapid," she announced after a quick internal check. "Nearly complete. You’ll be pushing soon." She glanced at the nurses. "Prep for twins. Monitor Baby B's position."
Ketut watched from her own bed nearby, her dark eyes fixed on Erika, feeling the echoes of her own intensifying contractions. Lena appeared at the door, holding a fussing Lucas. "Holy shit, double trouble!" she breathed, her own famously crowned booty swaying as she rocked the baby. "Camille’s grabbing the others, they’re on their way."
"Where’s Sophia?" Bruce asked, his gaze flicking to the door.
"Resting hard with Lucas," Lena replied. "Priya’s with her, checking vitals. She lost a lot, but Priya says she’s stabilizing thanks to your blood." The unspoken terror of Sophia’s near-death during her C-section hung heavy for a moment.
Erika screamed, a raw, tearing sound. "He’s coming! Fuck, he’s coming NOW!"
Petrova was instantly positioned. "Head is crowning, Erika! Big push! Now!"
Erika bore down with a guttural roar, veins standing out on her neck. Bruce’s knuckles were white where he held her hand. With a wet, sliding rush, the first baby emerged, slick and squalling angrily into Petrova’s waiting hands. A boy. Bruce cut the cord, his eyes shimmering with emotion.
Hardly a pause. "Baby B is breech," Petrova stated, her voice sharpening. "Feet first. Erika, I need you to push hard on my next word. No waiting. Ready… NOW!"
Erika screamed again, an animal sound of pure effort. Bruce braced her, murmuring encouragement. There was a tense moment, Petrova’s hands expertly maneuvering, then the second slippery body slid free. Another boy, quieter at first, then letting out a thin, insistent wail. Relief washed over the room.
"Two perfect sons, Erika," Petrova said, a genuine smile breaking through her professional mask. Nurses whisked the babies away for cleaning and checks.
Erika collapsed back, panting, tears streaming down her face. "Fuck me sideways," she gasped, a shaky laugh bubbling up. "That was… intense."
As Erika was tended to, Ketut’s moans grew louder, more insistent. "Bruce… my turn," she gasped, her knuckles white on the bed rails. "It’s… building… fast."
Bruce moved to her side instantly, kissing her sweaty forehead. Petrova, barely pausing, shifted her focus. "Let's see how far along you are, Ketut." Her gloved fingers probed gently. "Oh, yes. You’re fully dilated. This baby isn't waiting either. Push when you feel it, Ketut. Use that strength Sophia gave you."
Ketut didn’t scream. She growled, low in her throat, her powerful, toned legs trembling as she bore down, her perky ass lifting off the bed. Bruce supported her back, his gaze locked on hers, the gold in his hazel eyes blazing with pride and fierce love. One hard push, then another. The head emerged.
"Good girl! One more big one!" Petrova encouraged.
With a final, primal grunt, Ketut pushed her child into the world. A girl. A loud, healthy cry filled the air, joining the softer fussing of Erika’s twins nearby.
"Beautiful," Bruce breathed, cutting the cord, his hand shaking slightly. "Just like her mother."
Camille, Jasmine, and Mystique arrived just as the baby was being cleaned, their faces alight with joy and relief. The suite was suddenly filled with soft cries, the murmur of women, and the metallic scent of blood underlying the antiseptic and floral air. Priya slipped in quietly, checking vitals on the new mothers with quiet efficiency.
Later, when the initial flurry had calmed, the babies swaddled and nursing, and Petrova and her team were finishing post-birth procedures, Bruce stood in the quiet corner near the door. The adrenaline was fading, leaving a profound exhaustion mixed with euphoria. His family. His expanding, chaotic, fiercely loved family. Priya approached him, her dark eyes scanning his face with professional concern.
"You gave a lot of blood for Sophia," she murmured, her voice low. "How are you feeling? Truly?"
Bruce ran a hand over his face. "Tired. But good. Relieved. Everyone’s… safe." He looked past her to where his wives and newborns filled the room – Erika drowsing with a twin on each breast, Ketut gazing in wonder at her daughter, Lena cooing to Lucas, Camille stroking Erika’s hair, Jasmine and Mystique admiring the new arrivals. The sheer abundance was overwhelming.
Priya followed his gaze, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips. Then her expression shifted, darkened with a heat Bruce recognized instantly. Her hand, cool from washing, slid up his bare arm. "All this life," she whispered, her voice dropping to a husky murmur. "Makes you feel incredibly alive, doesn't it? Primal."
Bruce felt the familiar surge respond deep within him, the exhaustion momentarily burned away by a different kind of fire. "Yeah," he rasped, his own gaze locking onto hers, drawn to the swell of her breasts beneath her top, the curve of her ass in her practical scrubs.
Priya stepped closer, eliminating the space between them. Her hand drifted down his chest, over the hard planes of his abdomen, and boldly cupped the growing bulge in his shorts. She squeezed, hard, feeling the thick outline of his cock hardening under her touch. "You need release," she stated, her eyes smoky, challenging. "After holding it all together for everyone. Let me help you with that, Bruce."
He groaned, his hips pushing instinctively against her palm. The sounds of newborn cries and soft chatter faded, narrowing down to her touch, her demanding presence. "Here? Now?"
"There's a supply closet," she breathed, her lips brushing his ear. "Down the hall. Quiet. Private." Her fingers traced the length of his shaft through the fabric, making him twitch. "I need to feel you. Hard. Right fucking now. I've been watching you all day, Bruce. Watching you be strong. I want to watch you lose control."
The raw need in her voice, the blatant proposition amidst the aftermath of birth, was an electric jolt. Bruce glanced back towards the birthing suite. Petrova was writing notes, the nurses tidying. His wives were absorbed in their newborns, a cocoon of new life and maternal bliss. They wouldn't miss him for a few minutes. The urge, the sheer visceral demand Priya radiated, was too potent to deny. He needed the harsh, physical grounding she offered.
"Show me," he growled, his voice thick.
Priya took his hand, leading him swiftly and silently out of the suite and down the dimly lit hallway. She pushed open the door to a small closet packed with linens and medical supplies. The air was dusty and smelled of starch. She pulled him inside, shoved the door shut, and locked it with a decisive click. Before he could react, she dropped to her knees on the cool tile floor.
Her hands were frantic, pulling at the waistband of his shorts and boxers, yanking them down around his thighs. His thick, 8-inch cock sprang free, already fully erect, the head glistening with pre-cum. Priya didn't hesitate. She leaned forward and took him deep into her mouth in one greedy swallow.
"Oh, fuck!" Bruce hissed, his head thudding back against a shelf stacked with towels. Her mouth was hot, wet, and demanding. She sucked hard, her cheeks hollowing, her tongue swirling around the sensitive ridge of his cockhead. She gagged slightly as he hit the back of her throat, but pushed through, taking him deeper, her nose pressed into his pubic bone. Her fingers dug into his hips, holding him steady as she began to bob her head with ruthless efficiency.
He looked down, the sight almost unbearable. Her beautiful face stretched wide around his girth, her dark eyes staring up at him with pure, unadulterated lust. Drool escaped the corners of her lips, smearing her chin. She pulled back, gasping for air, a thick strand of saliva connecting her lips to his dripping cock.
"That's it," she panted, her voice wrecked. "Fuck my mouth, Bruce. Use me. Shove that big white cock down my throat." She opened wide again, inviting him.
Bruce tangled his fingers in her thick, dark hair, not gently. He pushed forward, fucking her face with short, brutal strokes. Her gagging sounds were obscene, erotic music in the cramped space. He held her head still, thrusting deeper, feeling the tight constriction of her throat. Priya’s eyes watered, but she didn't pull away. She swallowed around him, the muscles massaging his shaft, her hands kneading his ass, pulling him deeper still.
"Yeah, take it, you filthy fucking cunt," Bruce groaned, his control fraying. "Suck me dry." He pumped harder, faster, the sound of wet sucking and choked gasps loud in the small closet. He felt the pressure building, a coiling tightness in his balls.
Priya felt it too. She pulled off with a wet pop, gasping. "Not yet," she commanded, her voice rough. "I want you inside me. I need to feel you split me open." She scrambled to her feet, turning and bending over a stack of folded sheets, pulling her scrub pants and panties down to her knees. She presented her full, round ass, the dark bush of her pubic hair glistening with arousal. "Fuck me, Bruce. Fuck me raw. Stuff me with that cock."
Bruce didn't need telling twice. He spat into his palm, slicking his throbbing length, then positioned himself behind her. The head of his cock nudged against her wet opening. He gripped her hips and slammed home in one powerful thrust, burying himself to the hilt in her tight, hot channel.
Priya screamed, a sound muffled by the linens her face was pressed into. "Oh GOD! Yes! Fuck! So fucking deep!" Her cunt clenched around him like a vise.
Bruce set a punishing pace immediately. There was no tenderness, only a raw, animalistic need for release. He pounded into her, his balls slapping against her ass with each deep drive. The closet filled with the sounds of their harsh breathing, the slick slap of flesh on flesh, the creak of the metal shelving as Priya braced herself. He reached around, finding her swollen clit, rubbing it hard, fingers slick with her juices.
"Come on, you dirty bitch," he grunted, pistoning into her. "Squeeze my cock. Milk it out of me."
Priya was sobbing, half in pleasure, half in overwhelming sensation. "Harder! Fucking destroy me! Fill my cunt!" Her inner muscles rippled and gripped him with desperate intensity. "I'm gonna come! Make me come on your big fucking dick!"
Her orgasm hit her like a seizure. She screamed into the sheets, her body bucking wildly, her pussy pulsing and clamping down on Bruce’s invading cock with incredible force. The rhythmic spasms triggered his own climax. With a guttural roar, Bruce slammed deep and held, his cock jerking violently as he emptied himself in thick, hot jets deep inside her.
They stayed frozen for a long moment, Bruce draped over her back, both panting harshly, sweat dripping, the air thick with the smell of sex and dust. He slowly pulled out, his spent cock glistening with their combined fluids. Priya slumped forward, gasping, her scrubs pooled around her knees.
Bruce pulled his shorts up, his breathing slowly returning to normal. Priya straightened, pulling her clothes back into place with shaky hands, wiping her face. She met his eyes. Her gaze was still dark, sated, but the professional mask was already settling back into place. She reached up, wiping a stray smear of her saliva from his cheek.
"Better?" she asked, her voice calm now, though slightly hoarse.
Bruce nodded, the intense energy purged, leaving a deep, heavy calm. "Yeah. Thanks, Doc."
She unlocked the door, cracked it open to check the hall, then slipped out silently. Bruce took another moment, leaning against the shelves, listening to the distant, soft sounds of his family – the cries of newborns, the murmur of his wives' voices. The chaotic, overwhelming, beautiful life he’d built. He pushed off the shelves and headed back towards the light, the scent of sex clinging to him like a secret, a primal counterpoint to the scent of new life filling the
The chaotic, overwhelming, beautiful life he’d built. He pushed off the shelves and headed back towards the light, the scent of sex clinging to him like a secret, a primal counterpoint to the scent of new life filling the birthing suite. The air hummed with soft infant cries and the low murmur of his wives. Bruce paused in the doorway, taking in the scene: Erika drowsing, a twin boy nestled against each of her large, pale breasts; Ketut gazing with rapt wonder at the tiny, dark-haired daughter suckling fiercely at her small, perky nipple; Lena rocking Lucas gently, her famous booty swaying; Camille whispering to Erika, her experienced hand smoothing back the younger woman's damp hair; Jasmine and Mystique hovering near the bassinets, their expressions soft.
"Took a walk, babe?" Lena asked, her sharp eyes missing little, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. She shifted Lucas to her hip. "Priya looked flushed rushing back in a minute ago."